


Idjits in Love

by Sweetie_T



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Dean gets pie, Everyone is over 21, F/M, Female Reader, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, My very first reader insert ever!, No Smut, Older guy, One Shot, Protective Bobby, Reader Insert, Romance, Sweet, Sweet Bobby, Very slight spanking, mentions of past suicide attempt, wound care, younger girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 18:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12018375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetie_T/pseuds/Sweetie_T
Summary: Bobby is acting weird and protective. The guys aren't much help. You decide to figure out what's up.One-shot.





	Idjits in Love

**Author's Note:**

> My first reader insert!
> 
> (If you don't already know, which I didn't when I first was introduced to fanfics about 2 months ago, Y/N means 'your name'.)
> 
> I unapologetically love Bobby! :-P  
> Hope you do too!
> 
> X's & O's
> 
> \- Sweetie

Bobby Singer was going to hell. Well, not literally, at least not at the current moment. But with the funhouse his dirty old brain had become, he really couldn't see it going the other way. He swigged his beer and tried to focus on his research. Instead of the sweet young thing currently sashaying half naked around his kitchen, cooking him dinner.

 

You were cooking breakfast for dinner. Bobby had insisted he could order takeout, but you had just got back from a long and tedious road trip with the boys and you were dying for real food cooked in a real home kitchen.

The guys were passed out upstairs in their rooms. You had showered and come back down in cutoff jean shorts barely longer than underwear and a too-tight tank top. Bobby had almost spit out his beer when he saw you. He hollered something about you being "half-naked". You guessed he kind of had a point, maybe. Bare feet, bare legs, bare arms, low-neck tank. But it was late summer and it was hot. Plus, everything that counted was covered. Pretty much.

You shimmied your hips to the kick-ass song blaring from your favorite radio station and piled your hair up on top of your head, securing it with an elastic you found in a drawer. Probably one of Sam's.

"Do you want bacon, Bobby?" You asked with a smirk, damn well knowing the answer already, Bobby loved bacon. But you couldn't help trying to engage him in conversation anyway. He always cracked you up. He never pulled punches, always gave it straight. At the same time, though, he had the biggest, softest heart of anyone you had ever met. He made you feel ridiculously safe. You only wished he would smile a little more. You loved to see the twinkle in his eyes.

"What do you think?" He sounded grumpy.

"I think you should be nicer to the girl cooking your dinner." You gently scolded him, flipping the bacon in the pan.

He just grumbled under his breath. The bacon smell woke the brothers and they thundered down the stairs, hungry.

"Smells amazing, Y/N." Sam said. He came and grabbed plates and silverware, setting the table.

You smiled at him. "Thanks, Sam."

Dean came over, stuffed some bacon in his mouth, pecked you on the cheek, and grabbed the syrup and butter, placing them on the table before coming back for the platter piled with eggs and the other one piled with pancakes. The boys sat at their places. You brought over the plate heaped with bacon and settled it in the remaining open space on the table.

You went over to Bobby and wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind, giving him a hug like you'd done a hundred times before. This time, though, was different. He stiffened under your touch. You released him and tried not to act upset at his reaction. "Dinner's ready." You brushed your fingertips through the hair on the back of his head and went to take your place at the table.

 

Bobby gritted his teeth and tried to recite the exorcism incantation in his head. He wanted desperately to block out the scent of your shampoo, the feeling your breath in his ear, your warm arms around his shoulders and your soft breasts pressed into his back. He had almost succeeded when your damn fingers sifted through his hair. He instinctively leaned into your touch, but before you had a chance to notice, thank the Lord, you were already halfway back to your seat at the table.

\---

You were hurt and a little angry at how distant Bobby had been since you got back. He was your refuge, your shelter in the shitstorm that was your life. No matter how bad things got, you knew you could come to Bobby for a hug or a smack upside the head and he could make everything, at least a little, better.

It was how things had been for years. Ever since you found your way to his doorstep, like a stray cat, enticed by warmth and food and safety.

As you discovered after stowing away on a hunt with the boys one time, you had a real talent for ganking bad guys. But the hunts took it out of you emotionally. And you always relied on Bobby to make you feel better, patching up your emotional wounds before (reluctantly) sending you back out there.

It was hard for him to watch you go, to put yourself at risk. At first you thought he didn't have faith in your abilities, but you'd gradually come to realize that it was because you were just as important to his mental health as he was to yours. There were more than a few nights you found yourself either hugging him, smacking him upside the head, or, on the really bad nights, dragging him out from the bottom of a bottle.

But lately it seemed he didn't even want to hug you anymore. And each time you touched him he made it clear it was unwelcome. He barely spoke to you and when he did it was clipped tones and short, gruff sentences.

You hadn't done anything wrong and you were sick of this.

A distraction came unexpectedly one afternoon. You got a call while manning the switchboard, all three of the guys were off busily doing other things. It sounded simple enough and it was close by, so you decided to go on your first ever solo job.

You figured you'd be back way before anyone even noticed you'd gone.

\---

"Where the hell is she?" Bobby was livid. All three men had noticed you were gone. There was no note, no voicemail, no email, no text. Nothing. Sam was on the computer doing some kind of search for you and Dean was on the phone calling hunters, police stations, hospitals, morgues... Bobby tasted metal on his tongue as the adrenaline coursed through him.

He couldn't stop pacing. He had tried to help with the search but he couldn't seem to sit still long enough to do anything productive. So he paced, back and forth, and occasionally yelled curses to the world at large. Real helpful-like.

Suddenly there was a purr of a car engine. Bobby ran outside and recognized it as one of the cars he had been fixing up. You parked, stumbled out of the driver's seat and began limping toward the house.

He closed the distance between you in a handful of purposeful strides. You braced yourself for an onslaught of yelling, but instead found yourself pleasantly crushed in Bobby's warm embrace. You hugged him back fiercely. He buried his face in your neck and you were surprised to feel hot tears on your shirt.

"I'm okay, Bobby. Salt and burn, I had it done in no time. If I hadn't tripped over all the junk in that house on my way out I'd be totally fine." You nuzzled his shoulder, breathing deeply the scent of home. "I shouldn't have gone on my own, I'm sorry..."

He pulled back from you, eyes red with tears but at the same time more pissed off than you ever remember seeing. You closed your mouth, instinctively knowing more words were not going to fix this.

"Where are you hurt?" His tone was angry but concerned.

You blushed furiously and looked away.

"Y/N, if you don't tell me where the damn-hell you're hurt, so help me, girl..."

"I slipped on some rubble and landed on something kind of sharp. I bandaged it, it's probably fine now." He grabbed your arm and spun you around, wincing at the torn fabric surrounded by blood on the right back pocket of your jeans.

He didn't say another word, just started dragging you into the house. You briefly caught sight of the brothers standing on the porch, turning tail and running up the stairs to their rooms as soon as they saw you were ok and noticed how furious Bobby's face was. For guys who regularly faced demons and ghosts they sure were a couple of cowards.

He grabbed the med kit and sunk into the couch, using his surprising strength to drag you over his lap, stomach down.

"Bobby, what are you doing?" Your words were abruptly cut off with a light slap to the uninjured side of your ass. "Bobby!"

"Hold still. I'm cleaning your wound. Maybe stitches. You up to date on your tetanus, kid?"

"Of course I am. Do you know what kind of crap we get stabbed and scratched with in this job?" Another, slightly more forceful slap to your ass, making you gasp.

"I do!!! Do you, ya idjit?" You went quiet at his shouting. He reached under your stomach and unfastened your jeans, pulling them down your hips, closely followed by your underwear. You blushed furiously, but strangely not unpleasantly, your ass bared to his gaze and touch. He gently peeled away the gauze you had packed your wound with. You hissed as the air hit the gash in your flesh. He prodded the skin very gently, checking to see how deep it was. You stifled a whimper at the pain.

"Bleeding's stopped. Butterfly bandages will do fine, so no stitches. And you don't go hunting again for a good damn while." He popped open the med kit and started pulling out supplies.

You felt your temper rise. He basically just forbid you to hunt. "I don't know why you're so pissed at me. Sam goes hunting by himself. Hell, Dean spent months by himself out there. I'm as good as they are, Bobby. What the hell is the difference?"

He sounded weary as he cleaned your wound with stuff that only stung a little. "Please just drop it, Y/N."

He taped your torn skin back together with the bandages, the support of the butterflies easing the discomfort considerably. He taped a big piece of gauze over the whole wound, protecting it from dirt and jostling.

He very gently and slowly dragged your underwear back up your hips, careful to barely let it touch your wound. He rested his large warm hand on the left side of your ass. The warmth and weight of his rough hand on a usually private area of your body unexpectedly filled you with a rush of liquid heat and you half-stifled a moan of pleasure. Bobby tensed under you and you felt something poke your stomach, which sent another rush of surprise heat through you and pulled another, louder moan from your lips.

Strong hands were suddenly on your biceps, lifting you and placing you on your feet, facing away from him. He helped you out of your jeans. His voice was husky. "You'll want to wear softer pants until that heals some. Jeans will just tear it open and I'll have to patch you up again."

He stood and for an instant the back of your body was warmed by the front of his. Then he slipped past you and went to the kitchen for a beer.

\---

Bobby was true to his word. He didn't want you hunting and the guys didn't want to get on his bad side, so they refused to take you with them when they caught their next case. Dean, ever the smart ass, suggested you could find a job to go do by yourself again, since it turned out so well the last time. You socked him in the arm.

The guys drove off without you. Bobby was his grumpy, distant self again. You were miserable. Your wound healed quickly thanks to Bobby's first aid skills, and you were left with a cute little scar on your butt. You threw yourself into training to stave off your boredom. But even that was wearing thin.

You came upstairs after spending half an hour beating the crap out of a punching bag. You wiped your sweaty face with a towel and sat in front of Bobby, perching yourself on top of a stack of papers he was trying to read. He looked at you. He was not amused.

"I'm bored. Spar with me?" He gave you a look that left you no doubt he was questioning your sanity.

"Have you met me, kid?"

You grinned playfully at him. "Come on... When's the last time you had a good ass kicking?" You tapped his knee playfully with your bare foot. He didn't respond for several minutes and you figured it would be the same old tired cold shoulder he'd been sporting since before your solo hunt.

And then he muttered "Balls." And you knew you had him. He reluctantly stood up. "Go on, I'll be there in a minute." He grumbled at you. Your face broke into an excited grin and you hopped off the desk, kissing him on the cheek before scampering off to the padded basement room he had converted into a gym.

 

After about 15 minutes you heard him coming down the steps. You were SO excited. Partly because you were about to work out some of your boredom with a real actual person instead of a bag of sand, and partly because you would be getting some undivided, quality attention from Bobby. Even if you were beating each other up, it was still better than the grouchy indifference you were sadly becoming used to.

You saw him and gaped for several seconds before you realized what you were doing and shut your mouth with a snap. He was wearing work out pants and a t-shirt. You had never seen him in anything but jeans, a flannel, sometimes a puffy vest and usually a baseball cap.

He held his arms out. "Get a good look?" He crossed his arms. "How do you wanna start, kid?"

Instead of answering you jump-kicked and very gently caught him in the ribs with the side of your foot. Suddenly you were on your back. He had grabbed your leg and used the leverage to knock you on your butt. Damn, but he was quick.

You jammed your feet between his legs, kicked and scissored, dropping him on his back. You flipped yourself onto your knees and jumped onto him, straddling his hips.

He stilled and you grinned down at him. "Give up?" He stared heavily at you for a minute, then he grabbed your hips and flipped you both over. His knees straddled your thighs and his hands pinned your wrists beside your head. You looked up at him from your vulnerable position on your back. He growled at you and you found it hard to breathe.

"Dammit, Y/N... What if this happened in the field? What if I was a demon?"

You scowled, leaned up and bit him on the nose, the surprise of your action causing his grip on your wrists to loosen. You wrenched one hand free and brought it to his shoulder, using a pressure point to make him collapse beside you in pain and release your other wrist. You let go of his shoulder and brought your elbow down hard, stopping it an inch from his windpipe.

You were angry. "I can take care of myself, Bobby." You let your limbs go limp and lay beside each other on the mat, both staring at the ceiling and panting for breath.

"You got hurt, Y/N."

"So? All hunters get hurt. Real hunters are covered in scars. I'm such a badass hunter I've got... hmm, let's count... One! I've got one scar."

"Seven." Bobby breathed, so low you barely heard him.

"What?"

He cleared his throat and sat up on one elbow, giving you an intense stare. "You have seven."

You looked up at him in confusion, still laying flat on the mat.

He touched your mouth gently with one finger. "You were a toddler. Fell on the sidewalk, teeth through your lip. Although it doesn't look like a scar, it just gives you the sexiest damn crooked smile."

He touched your earlobes. "Pierced your own damn ears when you were six. You decided earrings were a pain in the keester, though and let them close over, but you still have the little dimples where they were."

He put a hand on your lower abdomen. "Appendectomy when you were twelve. You told me about it one night you got piss-drunk. You took the bus to the E.R. Had a stranger sign the consent forms. You were alone the whole time."

He grabbed your wrists and you tried to flinch away but he didn't let you go and he didn't let you look away. His thumbs traced over the twin scars and his words came out a whisper. "Your final solution... You were nineteen. If the boys hadn't found you in that gas station bathroom... Brought you to me... Best and worst night of my life. Scaredest I ever been stitching someone up, and I only just met you."

His eyes misted over with unshed emotion. He reached to your right ass cheek and placed his hand there, it was oddly and intensely comforting. He gazed deep into your eyes. "And this one... I should have been there, baby. When you came here... When you stayed... When you decided I was worth trusting... I promised myself I'd never let you get hurt again. You wanted to know what the difference was, between you and my boys... I ain't in love with them, honey."

A few minutes later when you could breathe again you leaned up and crushed your lips to his, kissing him with a fevered passion. He was frozen in shock at first, and then slowly warmed up to you until his hand was buried in your hair and his kiss threatened to melt your marrow. You licked at his mouth insistently until he finally opened himself to you, his own tongue fighting yours for dominance. You moaned into his mouth.

You pushed him onto his back and straddled him, never breaking the kiss, and grinding your hips against his pelvis. He pulled back and gasped for breath. You took his hand and placed it under the hem of your t-shirt to rest on your soft, warm stomach. The heat and rough texture of his hand made you shiver.

You locked your gaze on his, both of you studying the soul of the other.

Suddenly the roar of the Impala came rumbling through the walls and it was like a bucket of cold water was thrown on him. He got to his feet, toppling you to the mat, muttering clumsy apologies, and disappeared up the stairs. It took a minute for the paralyzing shock of his abrupt absence to ease enough for you to move again.

\---

The ensuing awkwardness was intense. The boys were between cases and they seemed to be all over Bobby's house, everywhere, all the time. You tried to get Bobby alone several times to talk about what had happened, but one or both of the brothers were always there, or they would walk in right as you opened your mouth.

Bobby didn't seem to mind the reprieve, every time he thought you might get a private word with him his eyes filled with panic and he looked slightly ill. And every time he was saved by the guys. You were becoming more and more frustrated.

Finally you had an idea. The weather was getting cooler as autumn settled in. Dean was sitting on the couch fiddling with his laptop. You flumped down next to him.

"You know what would be awesome on a day like today?"

"Mm?" He made a noncommittal noise, not really paying attention.

"I mean, if I had some apples... I have a recipe for an amazing Dutch apple pie. Streusel topping, dripping with cinnamon and brown sugar. I make a killer homemade pie crust. Buttery and flaky. The apples would be just right, sweet and tender and hot..."

His laptop closed with a click and he grabbed his jacket. "How many apples do you need, Y/N?"

You smirked. "Oh, about 12. I can make two pies."

Dean nodded. "I'll get four dozen."

You laughed as he headed toward the door, you hollered after him- "Hey, take Sam with you!"

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him out of the kitchen chair where he had his own laptop open. You heard Sam mutter in confusion, the car doors close and the Impala drive away and the brothers were off, hunting for apples.

 

You went looking for Bobby, knowing this would be the perfect time to talk, uninterrupted. You found him in the junkyard, fiddling under the hood of one of the cars. You grabbed a rag and cleared your throat as you handed it to him.

He took the rag from you and wiped his hands. "Where are the boys?"

You smiled. "Sent them on an errand. Pie ingredients." You shrugged. "Just you and me."

"Oh... Well..." Bobby cleared his throat.

"Talk to me, Bobby, please. I hate this, ignoring each other."

He refused to look at you. "I already said too much, Y/N. What is there left to say?"

You crossed your arms and leaned back against the car, studying him for a long moment. "The first night we met... Did I ever tell you what it was like for me?"

"Do we really gotta talk about that, Y/N? Worst night of my life."

"You said it was the best night too."

He spoke reluctantly. "Well, yeah... It's when I met you." He blushed and grabbed two beers from the cooler, popping them open and offering one to you.

You took a sip of the beer before continuing. "I don't remember a lot about that night. I remember so much pain... And I know the guys found me and grabbed me and brought me here. But the first voice I remember is yours. You told me to hang on, to not let go. You promised me you would be there when I woke up. And you said that if I died on you you'd kill me." You chuckled.

"I meant it too." He grumbled.

"I know you did, Bobby. And your green eyes were the first thing I saw when I woke up. Do you know it was the first promise anyone ever kept to me? Ever. I never belonged anywhere, my whole life. Nobody ever cared about me but me. But it was that moment, when I opened my eyes and I saw yours. It was then I knew I was finally home."

He finally looked at you. "Y/N..." He breathed. "You are so damn special. You are worth so much more than this, than me. You should be out there, in the real world, getting married to a guy your age and buying a yappy little dog and decorating your condo all pretty. Not stuck here with a damn fool old enough to be your grandfather. Or worse, out hunting monsters and risking your damn life."

You scooted close to him, putting an arm around his waist, nuzzling your face against his shirt. "Nowhere I'd rather be than right here, home and safe and being held by the only man I've ever loved." You kissed the very edge of his mouth, almost his cheek, and put both arms around him, snuggling him close, whispering into his ear, "Ya' idjit."

He gave in and crushed you against him. "Baby, you make it so hard to do the right thing."

You smiled and gazed up at him, holding him close. "Does this feel wrong? Forget our ages, or what people will think." You pressed your hand over his heart. "Listen to your heart, Bobby. What does it say?"

He put his hand over yours and just stared at your eyes before slowly bending down and giving you an answer in the form of the sweetest, most loving kiss. You kissed him back, your other hand going to the back of his neck and playing in the hair on the back of his head.

He growled deep in his chest and his arm went around your back, pulling you harder against him and deepening the kiss. With your hand over his heart you felt his pulse speed up. He swallowed your soft little moans.

After exploring each other's mouths you pulled apart for breath, both of you panting, pupils blown. You smiled at him. He touched your face and rewarded you with a rare grin.

"I love you so much, Y/N."

You kissed him briefly before resting your forehead on his. "I love you too, Bobby. So much."

\---

That night Bobby made burgers for dinner on the outside grill. You baked eight pies, and Dean was happier than a kid at Christmas. You made him swear that he would eat healthy food too. He grumbled that apples were healthy, but he agreed to your terms.

After dinner and dessert (Dean reluctantly shared one of his pies. Everyone got one slice each, Dean got the rest) you all retired to the living room to watch a movie, a rare treat since all of you were always so busy. Bobby sat on the couch and you snuggled right next to him. Sam sat on the other end of the couch and Dean and his pie took up the armchair.

About halfway through the movie you laid your head on Bobby's lap and he began playing with your hair. You sighed happily, and were soon sound asleep.

When your breathing became deep and regular Sam glanced at you guys and gave Bobby a wink. Dean patted him on the shoulder. "About time, man." He said quietly around a mouthful of pie.

Bobby blushed, but kept playing with your hair. He looked at his boys, proud and relieved they approved. He smiled, surrounded by his family.

"Idjits." He muttered with love.


End file.
